Stephen is one of the most interesting characters in the
New Testament. His story is short--but intense. His work belongs to a
few days, and he makes but one speech--but his influence
belongs to all after time! He was the first deacon and the first Christian
martyr.

Stephen's fiery eloquence touched many hearts--but
it also aroused the members of the Jewish synagogues, who set themselves
against him. We must not be surprised if our efforts to do good, awaken
opposition. The more we try to honor Christ and build up His kingdom, the
more opposition we shall encounter. So long as we keep quiet about
people's sins and connive at their wrongdoings, they may not seriously
oppose us. But when we assault the evil we see in them and openly condemn
it--we shall certainly stir up enmity and antagonism and bring upon
ourselves opposition and possibly persecution.

Stephen's opponents were no match for him in argument.
"They were unable to stand up against the wisdom and the Spirit by whom he
spoke." It was not Stephen with whom they had to contend; there was an
unseen One beside him all the while who helped him. The Spirit in Stephen
whom his proponents could not resist--was the Holy Spirit. Stephen was an
inspired man when he stood before his opponents and declared to them the
words of God. He was filled with God, as were the apostles on the day of
Pentecost. If we go out in Christ's name to speak for Him, there will always
be One with us whom no man can withstand. If only we remembered this, it
would make us brave, resistless, in speaking the truth.

False witnesses were brought to testify against
Stephen, to try to convict him, as the rulers had tried to convict Jesus.
False witnesses are continually testifying against Christianity, in the
effort to prove that it is not a divine religion. The world is full of books
which seek to cast doubts upon divine revelation. In all life, too, there is
a disposition to bear false witness. Reputations are made and unmade, in
certain drawing rooms.

In the council before which Stephen was standing, there
was intense bitterness. The faces of the men grew dark with rage, as they
looked upon him and heard his words, which they could not answer. They were
little like honorable judges sitting in a court of justice. Their
hearts were full of rage and fury. In contrast with all this, Stephen
himself was calm quiet. The peace of God was in his heart. He was sustained
and strengthened by the trust, which nothing could disturb.

The record says, "All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin
looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of
an angel." What is the face of an angel like? We cannot tell--but we know
that those who live in God's presence, in the light of God's love, must have
shining faces. No doubt Stephen's face shone. The secret of the shining was
in his heart. The peace of God was there, and even amid the excitements
about him, with enraged enemies glowering upon him, he had no fear--but was
kept in perfect quiet. An angel's face must be gentle and loving, for angels
never know the feeling of anger or bitterness of hate--and we know that
Stephen's heart was full of love. There was no unforgiveness in Stephen--he
had learned from his Master the lesson of patience under injustice or
wrong--to make dark lines upon his countenance. An angel's face must have
marks of strength in it. Stephen was strong. Even with all the people
against him, he had no fear. He was strong in God.

The contrast between the members of the Sanhedrin and
Stephen is most striking. His quietness and sweetness enraged them the more.
"When they heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him."
They became like infuriated wild beasts as they listened to Stephen's words.
But while the rulers were so furious, Stephen was calm and full of peace. He
had found refuge from the strife of tongues in the presence of God.
The secret is given in the words, "full of the Holy Spirit." When God is in
a man, filling him--there is no room in him for fear or anger, or for any
earthly passion.

Stephen "looked up steadfastly into heaven." That was
well. If he had not looked up--he would not have seen the vision of glory,
which he now beheld. If he had looked down, he would have seen danger and
would have been afraid. He looked up and saw not the human rage and
fury--but the sweet peace of heaven above him. Like Moses, "he endured, as
seeing him who is invisible." We should train our eyes to look up-ward,
heaven-ward, God-ward--for there are our blessings, our goal, our home, God
Himself, and all fair and beautiful things.

The members of the Sanhedrin lost all self-control, all
dignity, and in their rage became an ungoverned mob. They cried out with a
loud voice, stopped their ears, and, rushing upon Stephen, dragged him out
of the courtroom, through the gate, out of the city, and stoned him! Thus
the eloquent voice was hushed, so that no more could it be heard on the
earth. His life, cut off so suddenly, so violently, when only beginning its
usefulness, seems a failure. But it was not a failure. Someone says that
Stephen's mission in this world was to deliver only one speech of half an
hour. But if his words had reached or impressed no other life, they fell
upon the ears of Saul, the persecutor, and he never forgot them. Stephen
died, and Saul was converted. Stephen's preaching was stopped--but Saul was
called to take up his unfinished work. We owe Paul to Stephen's
martyrdom.

Stephen's dying prayers were like his Master's. He prayed
first, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." To Stephen, dying was only breathing
out his soul into the hands of Jesus Christ! He knew it was not death--but
life, that was before him. His body was being mangled and broken--but
his spirit, his real self, could not be harmed. Beyond the strange
mystery of death--Jesus waits to receive the departing spirit. Death is only
a gateway through which the soul passes, and then life and glory burst upon
the vision of the emancipated spirit.

Stephen's other prayer was also like his Master's. Jesus
prayed for His murderers, "Father forgive them; for they know not what they
do." Stephen, with the same spirit of forgiveness, pleaded for his
murderers, "Lord, lay not this sin to their charge." It is the old lesson of
love for enemies taught over again.

Very beautiful is the picture of death which is
given here: "He fell asleep." Sleep is death's new, sweet name! What
a picture of peace the word suggests, right here in the heart and fury of
the mob! In the midst of all the wild scene--Stephen fell asleep!

We think of a tired child creeping into the mother's
bosom and falling asleep. Sleep is not a terrible experience; it is nothing
to be dreaded. We sleep when we are weary--and we awake refreshed. Sleep is
not the cessation of life. We expect to awake, after we have slept. As we
part for the night, we do not say, "Farewell," but "Goodnight," for we
expect to meet again in the morning.

This beautiful Scriptural designation of death tells us,
therefore, of life beyond, of resurrection, of immortality. We shall awake
from this sleep of death--and our life shall go on again. We shall awake
refreshed, lying down weary--and rising strong; lying down sick, or old, or
deformed, or worn-out--and rising well, young and radiant in heavenly
beauty!

The last scene in our passage shows us the burial
of Stephen. It was quiet--but impressive. He was greatly beloved, and the
sorrow over his death was sincere. His body was laid away in the grave--but
they could not bury his influence. Martyrdom did not destroy his life. No
doubt he did more by dying than he could have done if he had lived on for
years, preaching Christ.